


Order

by prefacing



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Drabble, Friendship, Gen, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prefacing/pseuds/prefacing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another drabble for the 30 Day Writing Challenge that I FAILED MISERABLY AT, though this one's longer that most of the others. </p><p>Bruce becomes a master at introspection and Tony attempts to drag him out to see a Broadway show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Order

It's quiet in the laboratory, just the way Bruce likes it.

Though, to be fair, he supposes he can't really call the room a true laboratory. There's enough equipment to make any scientist's eyes light up with desire, but much of it is scattered between robotics tools that would make an engineer weep and sleek high-definition stereos that a college male would choose over a real live Playboy bunny. But for the time being, it's all his, leant out in a fit of generosity - or so Tony had said. Deep down, Bruce knew it was an unspoken act of kindness, and one that the company head would repeat over and over if given the chance, but Mr. Anthony Stark had never been big on announcing such things. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

Next to him sits a pile of papers - research on electromagnetic particles - carefully stacked, with post-it notes lettered neatly denoting each one, and above his head, a shelf of folders and notebooks, containing his own observations on the subject. Nothing else in the room is his, not the pens nor the coffee mug nor even the shirt he wore on his back. (While he'd chosen the shirt, Tony had graciously swiped his credit card to cover the purchase.) 

It's quiet in the laboratory, but only for a minute more.

Bruce hears the whirr of the door a split second before he hears the voice, but that split second is enough for him to tense.

"So what'cha up to, Big Guy? Whatever it is, I bet it'd go even better with the soothing screams of AC/DC in the background."

There's a faint _click_ and then suddenly Bruce can no longer hear himself think as the screeching sound of electric guitar fills the (thankfully) soundproofed room. 

"Tony, I--"

"Sorry, can't hear you! Gotta speak up, Brucey!"

Bruce knows it's a lost cause and so he merely frowns, a pained expression clear on his face as he reaches out to firmly take the remote away and lower the volume until loud screeching because merely muted whining. With the shift in music comes a shift in expression, from pained to exasperated.

"I'm working, Tony."

And _that_ is met with a deadpan look, the one Tony's perfected oh so well. "Yeah, and you're more productive and more intelligent when you listen to music, scientifically proven. Twinkie?"

Gently, Bruce pushes away the tacky plastic wrapping that's suddenly three inches from his face, and shakes his head. 

"No thanks. And I'm pretty sure that was classical music, not--"

"C'mon, we're going out."

"I--what?"

Tony, still seemingly unruffled by anything that'd happened in the previous five minutes, shoves another Twinkie in his mouth before pointing first at Bruce, then at himself, and then finally at the door. "You, me, out. _Capiche_?"

"Uhhh....."

There's the faintest sigh as Tony sets down his precious box of Twinkies and reaches over to reclaim the remote, clicking off the music and bringing the room back to a peaceful quiet. 

"Bruce. Look at this place. This stuff?" He walks over, picks up a few of the papers. Throws them off to the side. "You can mark it up later. This stuff?" He reaches up and grabs a hold of the shelf of notebooks, and gently tosses them to another table, causing them to spill out and fan across the steel surface. "Is gonna make your eyeballs fall out sideways if you keep scribbling tiny notes in them. Where'd you get that kind of handwriting anyway? It's like Pepper's, but five times smaller. No wonder you wear glasses."

To his credit, Bruce doesn't wince visibly, though underneath the neat yellow fabric and the layers of dermis, his temperature is rising, to match the quickening of his heartbeat. He hates this, hates having control yanked out of his hands again by someone who thinks they know what's best for him. All he's ever wanted was to be left alone, to do all the things he's wanted to, and just when he thought he could relax, let his guard down just the tiniest bit, someone had to waltz in again and take it all awa--

"Bruce? You in there? Earth to Mr. Green Jesus."

"I--.....yeah."

For a moment, Tony doesn't speak, eyes boring into Bruce in a manner that's almost uncomfortable. But then it's over, and he's grabbing one last Twinkie before turning and heading for the door.

"Star Spangled Man wants to head out and see a Broadway show, but I'm thinking all the fangirls are going to mob him if we don't do something about it. You should come play knight in shining armor with me. I'll take you to the tech shop afterwards."

Sometimes, Bruce forgets that Tony has his own share of insecurities and problems, ones that he doesn't like to share either. He forgets that the other man can relate to knowing how it feels to have a secondary persona, one that's so vastly different from the original. _Birds of a feather flock together._ He'd never really been given a chance to be part of any flock, especially not one with so many varied and unique individuals, and there are times he resents the bonds that tie him down and link him back, both to the Avengers and to S.H.I.E.L.D. But....more and more, he appreciates all of them, appreciates Tony, for giving him what no one else has really seen fit to give him.

He smiles, small and resigned. But it's a warm resignation, a thankful resignation.

"Yeah, sure."

Tony doesn't always show it, and neither do the rest, but there's compassion inside him, and trust, and that single seed of chaos always necessary in any life worth living.


End file.
